


Luna’s Grim Fate

by nickahontas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (kind of), Arranged Marriage, Bullying, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack Turned Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Pre-Relationship, Rare Pairings, marriage law
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:53:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29256258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickahontas/pseuds/nickahontas
Summary: There’s a marriage law. After Hermione’s future is settled, Harry helps his friend Luna escape a grim fate. Only, he didn’t expect it to be quite so literal.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Luna Lovegood
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	Luna’s Grim Fate

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, Luna is in Harry’s year and they’ve all been aged up. They just graduated their fifth year with the Triwizard Tournament and begun their sixth with Umbridge.

Luna Lovegood is not loony.

It used to bother her when people called her Loony Lovegood, but that changed as she grew older. She learned that other people couldn’t see the things she did and she couldn’t hold that against them. It wasn’t their fault, after all.

They couldn’t believe the things she believed either. People, Luna quickly learned, are complex creatures. They don’t handle truths very well. Sometimes the truth has to be wrapped up as something else to get someone to listen. Take nargles for example. It made people uncomfortable when Luna told them bullies stole her shoes, so she started saying the nargles did it. She didn’t get her shoes back- not until Harry Potter, at least- but people stopped looking at her with that awful pity in their eyes. They left her alone to wear mismatched socks and play with her mother’s cork necklace and old spells.

Soon, the nargles came to mean more than just bullies. The lies came to help more people than Luna. She taught herself to include useful tidbits of wisdom in the lies-that-were-truths, and if people didn’t realize she helped them, that was okay. 

So Luna Lovegood became Loony Lovegood even though she isn’t very loony at all and that’s okay too. She has her friends- real friends!- and her mother’s cork necklace and old spells.

It’s because of those three coveted things that Luna isn’t worried at all when she’s called to the Headmaster’s office. The round room is just as whimsical and bright as it always is, even if it does make her a little homesick. The books and artifacts whisper to her excitedly, begging her to explore their secrets.

“I’m sorry, but this isn’t the time,” she says to the nearest contraption. The crystal pyramid slows its spinning dejectedly. “Maybe we’ll have a chance to talk another day. I’m free most Tuesday afternoons.”

“Er, Luna.”

She turns to her friend- her first friend- and frowns.

“Oh, hello Harry. I’m sorry to see that your blithering humdingers are acting up again.”

His bold, brilliant magic is swirling in on itself like a great hurricane. It turns his lips down and furrows his brows together, distorting the horrid scar on his forehead. Luna hates that scar. It seeps and leeks and taints every part of Harry from his mind to his heart to his soul.

“Right. Thanks, but I’m fine. It’s-...” He clenches his hands into fists and meets her gaze with burning emerald eyes. “It’s you I’m worried about. It’s you we’re all worried about. It’s why we called you here.”

“Well,” Professor Dumbledore says, rising from behind his desk. “It'll be difficult to follow such a fierce greeting, but I do offer my salutations as well.”

“Hello, Professor Dumbledore.”

Luna quite likes Professor Dumbledore. He’s wise enough to tell Luna’s fake creatures from her father’s fake creatures. (Luna loves her father very, very much, so much that it hurts sometimes, but he hasn’t quite been the same since her mother died. His fake creatures really are simply that.) The headmaster is also gracious enough to dampen that blinding, unfathomable power of his. Oh, she’s seen it once or twice, but he usually keeps it contained. He also has amazing fashion sense.

“I like your robes,” she says.

In a sudden bout of inspiration, she charms her knee socks to match. The left is a lovely tangerine color and the right cornflower blue. Almost everyone believes his wardrobe choices are barmy, but it’s really only a clever application of color theory. It’s mixing prints that’s tricky.

Dumbledore’s cheeks warm with a faint blush. “That’s very flattering of you, dear. Ten points to Ravenclaw for nonverbal charm work. Would you like to take a seat?”

“Of course,” she says, lowering herself across from him. Harry perches on the seat beside her. He immediately begins drumming his fingers on the wooden arms.

Luna smiles softly at Dumbledore. “Should you begin or should I? I don’t think Harry’s quite up to it yet.”

Dumbledore returns her smile with a rather sad one of his own. The headmaster is often sad. It’s a shame, really. Luna likes to think everyone deserves to be happy.

(The truth is that under her fantasies and kindness, there is a darkness that lives deep in Luna’s bones. It prowls and sleeps and hungers for the day it gets to feed. She has to believe that everyone deserves to be happy, because she might do terrible, awful things if she doesn’t.)

“Do you know why you’re here, Miss Lovegood?”

“Of course. The new law that was announced yesterday evening. It’s quite barbaric, but then I suppose the world can be a bleak place sometimes. And please, call me Luna, Headmaster. Intimate conversations usually require intimate nomenclature.”

“Very well, Luna. Would you mind explaining the law for me so I can be certain that you understand it correctly?”

Luna watches Fawkes peck at his wing as she summarizes, “In an effort to repopulate Britain after the recent wars, the Ministry has enacted a new law stating that any witch not currently under a marriage contract or vow between the ages of sixteen and thirty must marry a wizard graduated from school and of age. It’s supposed to be a random lottery, but the Ministry has previously revealed their corruption with the Rotfang conspiracy, so I don't believe it will be random.”

“I’m not sure I’m familiar with that one.”

“A secret organization of aurors and high-ranking government officials are trying to take over the Ministry using a combination of dark magic and gum disease.” There’s a strange choking sound in the corner of the office, quickly followed by a fleshy thud. “If the Ministry is already allowing such a travesty, what other horrors are they capable of?”

“Indeed. The law does indeed have nefarious intent. You see, Voldemort hopes to gain leverage over Harry and other important figures by marrying their friends and family to his Death Eaters.”

“That sounds like the Ministry,” Luna agrees. “Will Voldemort himself be participating?”

Dumbledore hesitates. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“That is both a relief and a disappointment. It would have been both dreadful and fascinating.”

“Ah, yes. I suppose it would have been.”

“Is he capable of procreation in his current state? Does it matter? There are other methods, of course, older magic, but that’s a discussion for Hermione. Have you already found a husband for her? I assume you have if I’m here.”

Harry shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Er, yes, but Luna, don’t think that-“

“It’s quite alright, Harry,” Luna assures him. “You’ve been friends for much longer than we have and she is a much more impressive witch than I am.”

“Luna, you’re an impressive witch!” Harry argues.

“Oh, I know I am. I’m just not the brightest witch of my age.”

“Oh. Well. That’s alright then, I guess.”

Dumbledore’s beard twitches as he hides a smile.

“In that case, I’d like to discuss your options with you, Luna,” he says. “The first is that you decline our offer. You will be entered into the Ministry’s lottery and required to marry whom they choose. I would ask that you keep in mind all the reasons Voldemort is interested in having you under his thumb. You are pureblood witch that is a known to be a close friend with Harry Potter and your family has several resources that would be useful to Lord Voldemort.”

Luna nods as she chews on her bottom lip. The Lovegoods aren’t wealthy by any means, but they do have a widespread international network, a magazine with a steady following, an easy trust with creatures of all sorts, and Luna’s strange version of the Sight. She would indeed be a boon to the Dark Lord.

“I understand, Professor. Who did you have in mind?”

Dumbledore draws himself up. “I lead an underground organization called the Order of the Phoenix. We dedicate ourselves to fighting against Voldemort when the Ministry can or will not. There is an unfortunately small number of unmarried wizards amongst our members.” Here, he hesitates for a moment. “Three of them are unavailable and so the number is even more abysmal.”

One is obviously Professor Snape, but Luna figures his position as a double agent is too precious and precarious to risk in such a way. Besides, it must be hard enough to spy without hiding and caring for a forbidden spouse.

“Who are the other two?” she asks curiously.

Dumbledore‘s eyes twinkle with amusement. “I should have known better than to speak in riddles with a Ravenclaw. The first is Professor Lupin. His lycanthropy will prevent the Ministry’s spell from recognizing him as a wizard.”

Harry grumbles something crude under his breath. Luna agrees wholeheartedly.

“The other is Charlie Weasley. He is currently positioned in Romania and has been very public with his asexual orientation. It would be too suspicious if he returned home to marry a witch.”

“Bill married Fleur Delacour at the Burrow this summer,” Harry offers. “And Fred eloped with Angelina Johnson in Las Vegas.”

“That’s delightful news!”

His fond smile turns into a mischievous grin. “Mrs. Weasley wasn’t very delighted. George said it was a ‘novel experience’ to have her yell at Fred without him. That’s who Hermione’s with, by the way. George.”

Luna hums thoughtfully. “That should be good for her.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Hermione’s always been held back by her reason and logic. The greatest witches and wizards have always been creative thinkers. Almost everything is better in moderation. Except for love and books. One can never have too many books. Or perhaps quills. I never seem to have a quill when I need one.”

“That’s very wise of you, Luna, but we can’t afford to be distracted,” Dumbledore says gently.

“Oh, of course. Carry on.”

Dumbledore nods, then abruptly pauses. His bushy gray brows furrow together in consternation.

“Forgive me, but I seem to be distracted myself. I’ve just come to the untimely conclusion that one can never have too many woolen socks. I can never find a pair of thick, warm socks when the castle is feeling drafty.”

Another strange noise comes from the same shadowy corner. Luna finds herself growing curious. There’s obviously a spy in the room, but a spy that Dumbledore doesn’t mind spying. Then again, is one even a spy if the subjects are aware of the spying? What a wonderful question. Perhaps she could ask the Eagle Knocker. He might help her reason through it or otherwise be grateful for another riddle to add to his repertoire.

Harry clears his throat. Luna isn’t sure if it’s out of nerves or to hide his amusement. It’s polite of him either way. Harry’s always been very polite. It’s part of why he’d have made such a good Slytherin. Unfortunately, he isn’t quite comfortable with that part of himself yet, so Luna won’t be able to praise him for it until much later.

“We were telling Luna about our suggestion,” Harry tells them.

“Ah!” Dumbledore says. “Of course, of course! I take it you’ve noticed the listeners in the room?”

“I have,” Luna confirms, much to Harry’s amusement. “I do hope you don’t plan on replacing Professor Snape anytime soon.”

“So do I, my dear. So do I. Remus, if you would.”

Something in the corner shifts, as if the fabric of reality has been smoothed out, and then a slender werewolf appears.

“Hello, Professor Lupin. I hope you’ve been well.”

It looks like he has. A weight seems to have been lifted off his shoulders and the bags have disappeared from under his eyes.

“I have been, Luna. Thank you. Though I’m just Remus now.”

His smile is just as kind as ever. Luna has always felt a sense of camaraderie with Professor Lupin. He, too, chooses to fight the worst parts of himself with kindness. Once, after their boggart lesson, he pulled her aside and gave her a chocolate bar and quoted a remarkable girl named Anne Frank.

“ _Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness.”_

“I wish it weren’t so. You’re the second best professor I’ve ever had, and it’s only second because my loyalty to Professor Flitwick prevents me from making you first.”

This time it’s Remus that blushes. The red warmth in his cheeks turns his spidery scars white. Suddenly, Luna has the urge to reach for a paintbrush. His portrait would be so fun to paint, but he wouldn’t be comfortable with the attention.

“That’s very kind of you, Luna. Thank you.”

“It’s only the truth.” She leans back in her chair to peer over his shoulder. “Have you brought my husband along?”

Remus runs a hand through his graying hair. “Yes, I have. We hoped you might take my opinion into account before you make a decision.”

“Of course I will Remus, but I don’t think it’s necessary. Harry’s endorsement is enough for me. If Harry trusts him, then I will too.”

Harry isn’t the type of person to beam, but his eyes are expressive enough to relay his pride and love.

“He’s my godfather. I trust him more than anyone else in the world,” he says.

Remus traces a line in the floor with his worn loafer.“I’m afraid it isn’t so simple, Luna. You see, it’s-“

“Oh, bugger this,” a deep voice rasps.

Again, it’s like the corner of a veil being lifted to reveal a person. Luna’s first thought is that he’s beautiful. He’s tall and broad shouldered, if a bit thin, with long dark hair and stormy eyes. But it's his aura that makes her breath catch in her throat. His body is filled with the night sky, the stars blinking and burning in erratic patterns. Some of them are dull clusters and some of them are blinding suns. The worst and the best of it is a swirling vortex of dark space that orbits frantically from his chest to his head in a mesmerizing pattern.

It’s that dreadful, beautiful darkness that has Luna saying, quite loudly, “You’re Stubby Boardman!”

Sirius Black freezes. His mouth- and Merlin, Luna didn’t know boys could have lips like that- falls open.

Remus clears his throat. It doesn’t fool Luna a bit. She can see the way his eyes are crinkled.

“Uh, Luna, this is my dear friend Sirius. Sirius Black.”

Luna frowns and tilts her head to the side.

“Are you quite sure?” She asks, louder still.

“Yes. Quite.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Professor Dumbledore cuts in, his eyes twinkling like mad. “One can never be quite sure. What do you think, Harry?”

“I dunno. There’s loads of stuff he hasn’t told me yet.”

The headmaster inclines his head. “Then we shall simply have to ask. Are you or are you not Sirius Black?”

Sirius Black coughs lightly. “I am Sirius Black but I suppose that doesn’t mean I’m not Stubby Boardman.”

“Have you ever-“

“Luna, is there a reason you’re yelling?” Remus asks.

“Oh, I’m sorry Remus. It’s only that the Hobgoblins broke up when Stubby Boardman was hit in the ear with a turnip and I wasn’t sure if Mr. Boardman could hear me.”

She turns her attention to Sirius Black. The star near his ear has begun to slowly grow brighter. It lightens and darkens like long, deep breaths. She doesn’t jolt out of her trance until Harry knocks his shoe against hers. 

“Luna?” He hedges.

Luna forces herself to meet Sirius Black’s gaze. He has very expressive eyes, much like Harry. It’s what would make them both terrible Slytherins. There’s relief and fear and dread and humor and an unnatural gleam not unlike her father’s. That’s nothing new. The Blacks have always been mad.

“Have you ever been hit in the ear with a turnip?”

“Can’t say I have,” he says.

“What about a star? There’s a star in your ear.”

“Is there?”

“Yes! It’s doing a great job of fighting off your blithering humdingers.”

“I-my-...” He trails off, tilting his head to the side. He scrutinizes her in a long, slow sweep of his eyes. There’s nothing sexual in it, something that she can’t decide if it is a relief or a disappointment. His piercing gaze shoots to Dumbledore. They share a quick, silent conversation that ends in sharp nod.

Sirius Black sighs and leans back to stare at the domed ceiling.

“My father is jumping for joy in his grave,” he mutters.

“Took you long enough!” A dark-haired man in a portrait snaps.

"Was your father a necromancer?" Luna asks."I met a necromancer in Norway three summers ago. He was a very good teacher and an even better cook, though I was a bit scared to eat anything with meat at first. Which was quite silly of me, seeing as he’s a necromancer and not a cannibal.”

Silence descends on the room. All four men begin to have a silent conversation with each other. Luna gives them their privacy and takes the opportunity to study a floating bronze sphere on the Headmaster’s desk. Oddly enough, there isn’t any magic inside the sphere, just on its north and south poles. She leans forward to poke it with her wand. Nothing notable happens. This time she taps the very top, where the magic is buzzing. The hall jolts, hums, and then mellows out. Interesting. What if she were to cast a levitation charm?

She becomes so caught up in her new experiment that she doesn’t notice when the others finish their conversation. When she looks up, Remus and Sirius have conjured chairs for themselves. Remus is calmly resting in a cozy tartan wingback. His friend is sprawled in a massive, black leather armchair that it is as ostentatious as it is comfortable.

“Now, Luna,” the Headmaster begins, “there are several matters we must discuss. Firstly, the contract. There are several required stipulations put forth by the Ministry, but the rest is left up to the parties involved. If you’re willing, I can provide one for you or you can acquire one of your own.”

“I trust you, Headmaster. Mr. Black?”

Sirius Black flinches. “Dear Merlin, don’t call me that. It’s just Sirius. But yeah, whatever. There are more important things to talk about. Like the fact that I’m old enough to be your father.”

“You’re more than handsome enough to make up for it,” Luna reasons.

Remus coughs lightly into his fist.

“And I’ve never imagined myself settling down with someone my own age,” she continues. “I’ve found that young people can be quite cruel. Even Harry’s friends aren’t very kind when he’s not around. Especially Hermione.”

Another silence settles over the room. Harry twitches in his seat, his magic swirling faster and faster. She watches, entranced, as the foul darkness in his scar pollutes it with a murky chartreuse fog.

“You won’t be in Hogwarts forever,” Sirius argues. “You’ll go out into the world soon and find some younger, happier man than me.”

“Sirius-“ Remus tries, but Sirius cuts him off.

“I’m a Black, Remus. We corrupt things. She’ll be miserable. I’ll take every happy experience she should have and twist them into something foul.”

“Sirius, there’s no need to be so dramatic-“ Professor Dumbledore begins.

“Are you talking about sex?” Luna interrupts.

Remus and Harry look mortified. Sirius, however, slinks back into his chair despondently.

“Not only that, no, but yes, that too. Your first time shouldn’t be with a gaunt, broken old man.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing that you’re not a gaunt, broken old man,” Remus snaps.

Luna nods, then frowns as she realizes something. “Does the Ministry require that the bride be a virgin?”

“No, my dear, they don’t,” Dumbledore says.

“Oh, that’s good then.”

And just because Sirius Black is still pouting luxuriously and Harry is feeling hilariously awkward, Luna puts on her dreamiest voice and says, “I used my virginity in an ancient Mayan ritual this summer. It was fun, if very sticky, though that could have been all the pig’s blood. And I suppose the ceremonial masks were a bit overwhelming, but it was a pleasant experience overall.”

Harry promptly breaks into a choking fit. “I think...I think Luna’s got it without me.”

“And me, I think,” Remus says. He sends Luna a quick wink. “Won’t you see me out, Harry?”

Harry grumbles something under his breath, pausing his hasty exit only long enough to squeeze his godfather’s shoulder in farewell. Once they’re gone, Sirius leans back and eyes Luna with that same scrutinizing glare. It’s rather intimidating. _He_ is intimidating. She can definitely understand why someone might think he murdered a dozen or so people. That probably shouldn’t be as arousing as it is.

“That was very manipulative of you,” he accuses.

“Your wrackspurts have cleared.”

Sirius stares at her a little longer, then scowls fiercely up at the domed ceiling. “My brother would have like you.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“He was a cowardly idiot.”

“Sirius-“ Dumbledore interjects.

“I’m angry with my mother,” Luna says. “Everyone told her to be more careful with her spells, but she didn’t listen. She tried a new one out in the kitchen and died in front of me while I was eating toast. I‘ll never not be upset with her for it, but I’ll never stop loving her anyway. Toast has always been a bit dry for me, though.”

Professor Dumbledore smiles kindly at her over his spectacles. “Thank you for sharing that, Luna. It was beautiful. ”

“My mum was a right cunt,” Sirius says.

“SIRIUS ORION!” the man in the portrait bellows.

Luna clamps her lips tight together to keep the giggles at bay. Sometimes people look at her funny when she laughs. It makes them call her loony and tell her she’s as mad as her father and she’ll die alone in a cottage in the woods. Sirius catches her eye, tilting his head to the side at whatever he sees. Suddenly, Harry’s stray Hogsmeade dog makes a lot more sense.  


The headmaster sighs. “I think that perhaps we should carry on with our next order of business. Luna, since you won’t be of age until February, the contract requires that your father sign with your intended present. I require your input on this, Luna. How long will it take your father to accept the truth about Sirius?”

All of Luna’s amusement is swept away in one great rush. “No time at all, Headmaster. We could go now if you like.”

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary.” He looks at Sirius inquiringly. “Saturday, perhaps?”

“I’ll have to check my schedule,” he deadpans.

Professor Dumbledore shoots him a stern glance. “Then I suppose we shall visit the Rookery on Saturday. I’m sure you’ll be glad to be home again, Luna.”

”Yes, Headmaster, of course,” she says, but it’s the furthest thing from the truth. She loves her father and her home and her forest, but it’s a very lonely place to be. Being there for too long makes it harder to find enough light to fight off the darkness. 


End file.
